


Fray

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Gen, self-destructive behaviour, the Chrono/Ibuki is just implied but you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 21:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10201001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: The months stretch, the rumours spread, and Ibuki starts to fray at the seams.From Stride Gate to U20, a study in self-destruction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm still mad that NEXT went back on his character development. But since it's what we got, I'm at least giving it some continuity. And, well, this is pretty much the only way I can see the current state of things coming to pass.  
> There might be slight changes/mistakes to the timeline, but considering NEXT can't even get Ibuki's age right, I'm past caring (and I didn't want to rewatch 20 episodes to check)
> 
> Warning for... Ibuki, tbh. His trauma is still here and real.

You don't go to Card Capital.  
You want to, of course. Chrono aside, you've started to get to know Katsuragi over the last few months, adding him to the list of people you can talk to for more than ten seconds without having to silence a spark of panic or uneasiness in your chest. And the place itself… the place itself holds memories, warmth. An aborted strategy meeting, but also chance encounters, and that one time when being part of a group allowed you to pour your heart into something for him, without being overbearing. Something casual, this time, and his smile as only reward.  
You hold that memory close, when the stress gets too much, when the noise of too many people won't leave your head and your skin after a long day or a meeting.  
You don't go to Card Capital. He works there now; “cause I can't keep relying on Mikuru for everything, you know, I gotta put in some work for my future myself,” he's told you on the phone when he called to let you know. You'd congratulated him, and he'd laughed, a little off-rhythm, and he'd asked how _your_ job was going.  
Fine, there is a lot of work to do to unroot Myoujin's legacy and clean the mess of unsavoury financial entanglements his reign on the association left behind. Did you remember to sleep? Of course.  
In the end, he's the one who hung up, after a silence.  
“You take care, okay? I'll see you.”

By the time September comes, you're starting to give up on your hopes of passing the torch on to someone else.  
There's simply too much to do. You'd wanted to clean the Association of its remaining weeds and move on, pass on the position to someone more suited to responsibility and fame. But the second you manage to clear one of your goals, you get assaulted with demands: tournaments here, events there, your opinion on regulations concerning restricted cards. The previous chairman had been hard to reach; your willingness to actually do your job seems to prompt every single person in the vicinity to involve you in day to day tasks, ask for advice, put decisions in your hands. Power had been delegated before; you uprooted much of the structure to smoke out those who had enabled Myoujin's schemes, and without your input it decided to center itself on you instead.  
**We're organising a party for Chrono's birthday** , Katsuragi texts you. **You coming?**  
You hesitate. You want to, of course; even if you don't participate much, it'd be a chance to see him, even from a distance, to watch him smile and have fun like he should have been doing all those years. But a _party_ —you've never been comfortable at parties, and your presence might ruin the mood. Who wants a silent, awkward man at their celebration?  
_I'll see you._  
You want to. Toy with your phone throughout the following day, trying to give yourself the push to answer.  
The Star Gate Branch Chief calls you instead.  
“Look, Ibuki, I know work as Chief has to be more fun than the tedium here, but please don't forget you're a Clan Leader too. People have been clamouring for something Link Joker-themed for months now. I need you for this event, we don't have enough players for this clan as is. Just delegate for one weekend; it works fine for me.”  
You don't go to the party.

That evening, after the cleanup for the first day of the event is finally over, you send him a single message.  
**Happy Birthday.**

By December, you've gotten used to the job, gotten used to tuning it all out. The work leaves you tired enough that you don't have room to feel anxious, and on the bright side, you're finally almost done with the cleanup. If something happened to you, you're at least relatively confident that the entire thing wouldn't go corrupt again.  
You keep Mamoru for a glass after the monthly meeting with the Branch Chiefs—as usual, Oyama's sent him in his stead. It happens every other month, and you're always grateful for it, both because Mamoru's more quiet voice and steady leading presence make those meetings a lot less of a headache, and because he's still maybe the person you feel most comfortable with, especially right now.  
“Chrono's been asking after you,” he tells you quietly after a lull in the conversation.  
“Is he all right?” you ask immediately, and he chuckles lightly at your worry.  
“He's fine. Stressed about the upcoming exams, according to Tokoha. But I'm surprised you haven't been in contact.”  
You look away.  
“… I've been busy. Work makes me lose sense of time.”  
It's only partly true, and not your actual reason. The more time passes, the less you feel like you have a place at his side. The few weeks leading to and after the confrontation with Myoujin were a special case; you were brought together by the need to fight a bigger enemy. But as happy as you were to be able to talk to him freely then, you can't hide from the fact that you contributed to hurting him.  
He may have forgiven you, but you were the one to draw him into this conflict to begin with. Now that it's over, and that he's recovered the Vanguard that was stolen from him as a child (he just needed to remember, you were nothing more than a vessel, and for his father's wishes, at that), he should be able to close the door on that era of his life, and walk towards the future.  
And your role ends there. He doesn't need you anymore. He never really did.  
What place do you have in his life now? How can you justify taking up his space or time when he has so much to do, so much to _live_ , so many people surrounding him?  
“He worries about you,” Mamoru says. “And so do I.”  
“I'm sorry.” You sigh. “I'll try to be more careful. The workload is getting lighter, at least.”  
You don't want him to worry about you. You don't want _Chrono_ to have to worry about you. They have better things to do.  
You resolve to become stronger. To present a better face to the public, at least. You can't let them worry.  
“… you do know I will gladly come to help you if you ever need it, don't you?”  
You nod.  
“I know. Thank you.”

On your birthday, a handful of messages come. From Mamoru. Miwa. Katsuragi. Ren, to your slight suspicion. An email from Sendou.  
You spend the day trying not to be upset at the conspicuous name missing from that list. It's only natural, after all. You've barely talked to him since summer. A text here, a chance meeting there. What were you expecting?  
He's finally moved on to more important things, is finally living his own life. And that's a _good thing_.  
You still feel a needle of loss sinking into your heart every time you see your phone.  
You're almost done with your day when Miwa sticks his head through your door.  
“Oh good, you're still there.”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“Jeez, not even a hello? And I _live_ five minutes away, remember?”  
You nod and sigh. You're being rude again, you realise.  
“I'm sorry.”  
“Anyway. I got a delivery for you?”  
“A delivery?”  
“My _cute coworker_ asked me to take it when he dropped by the main shop earlier. And you know I can't resist helping nice people.”  
You blink as he walks towards you and all but shoves the package into your hands. You take it out of pure reflex.  
“Well, I'm out. Learn to stay in touch, will you? I swear, you and Kai both...”  
You're too dumbstruck to do much more than nod. In your hands, the fabric wrapped around the package is slightly rough, but feels cool and clean against your fingers. Sturdy.  
Miwa leaves. You put the package down on your desk and work on undoing the simple but neat and elegant knot of fabric that kept the contents safe and easy to carry.  
Inside, you find a box, filled to the brim with cookies with the Link Joker crest printed into them, and a single one, larger and more elaborate, in the shape of Chrono Dran's face. And a note, handwritten: **Happy Birthday, old man. Take care of yourself.**  
When you finally taste one, hours later at home, it's subtly accented with coffee.

It's February and you just can't ignore the rumours anymore.  
People are having visions. It's hard pinpointing their origin, but almost every version you hear involves fighting someone, and people are starting to whisper that Cray actually exists.  
You contact Sendou, Ren, and, just in case, Leon Soryu.  
**I might be wrong** , Sendou answers, confirming your doubts, **but it doesn't sound like psyqualia to me. Is this a general phenomenon, or is a single person causing it?**  
**I don't know for sure. I think it might be a small group of people, but I'm still investigating them.**  
**Maybe something is happening on Cray itself** , he suggests. **I'll keep an eye out.**  
You don't even think of stepping down anymore. You can't afford to.

Mamoru's little sister leaves, and you invite him to dinner to cheer him up.  
_See_ , you want to show him. _I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me anymore. I'll take care of everything, pay back everything you did for me, the pain you went through because of me._  
He's stressed, but cheerful, hopeful.  
“She has a bright future ahead of her,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. “I can't believe people are still comparing her to me—I would never have had the courage or life skills to follow through with something like this at her age.”  
You nod. And then, because you want to do something for him, you offer: “Would you help me organise the U20 tournament?”  
He blinks.  
“That's sudden.”  
“I've recently found myself saddled with yet more things to do—some troubling rumours. It might be nothing, but I want to investigate them. You were telling me to delegate...”  
He smiles.  
“Of course. I'll help you.”  
You smile in turn. Part of you thinks you could have found a better way than to make him do even more work, but at least this way he'll be too busy to worry about his sister. Or you.  
And besides, you think you make a less exploitative manager than Oyama.  
“About the Legend Coach System,” he says, changing the subject, “it's a great idea. We haven't even started proper, and people are already lining up. Are you participating?”  
You shake your head.  
“I don't really have time. And besides, I don't think I make a good teacher.”  
He chuckles.  
“You underestimate yourself.”  
_No. No, I really don't._

March, and the rumours are getting more precise. You interrogate a handful of people who've seen the vision, but most of them mention their opponent acted disappointed and left.  
On the internet, you catch wind of a similar rumour among the notorious players of Euro Circuit. You put Kai on the case.  
April, and Mamoru tells him his little sister is coming home.  
“Some events in France seem to have depressed her—she didn't sound like herself when she called. But she said she wanted to participate in U20; I hope the tournament can cheer her up.”  
“We'll do our best to make it a success,” you try to reassure him. “The reviews we had last year were overwhelmingly positive.”  
He smiles.  
“I hear Chrono is trying to put a team together too.”  
You blink.  
“Chrono?”  
He'd never expressed any interest in becoming a pro player. But with all the advertising for the tournament he'd have to have helped put up at the shop, maybe the challenge caught his interest.  
And besides, when's the last time you've talked to him? He's a high schooler, now. Maybe his plans for the future have changed.  
“Shion asked me to coach one of his own teammates—I heard about it through them. He's recruited Taiyou Asukawa—you used to coach him, didn't you?”  
“I did—in a way.” Your program coached him. Chrono, Chrono's fights, entered into it, coached him.  
“But I'm relieved—something like this should cheer him up.”  
“Huh?”  
“He's been looking depressed lately… he comes to the Branch regularly, but his smile seems forced. And people challenging him to fights because of his title probably doesn't help.” He looks up at you. “I'm sure a challenge like this will raise his spirits, though.”  
You feel, somehow, betrayed. _Why did no one tell me_ , you want to ask, but why _would_ anyone have told you? You've been so busy, so distant. Why would anyone assume you're still involved with his life in any way, much less in any position to help.  
But you want to. Even from a distance, you want to do something. You'd have thought of something earlier if only you'd _known_.  
It makes you want to keep closer tabs on him, just to make sure this doesn't happen again. But his old chastising words still ring in your ears. You don't want him to have to call you a stalker ever again.  
You don't want him to be disappointed in you.  
“We'll see him at the tournament itself,” Mamoru says, gently. You look up, realise you'd tightened your hands on the desk you'd been leaning on to the point that they hurt.  
He's smiling, and you try to answer it. Nod, when you fail.  
“… let's get back to work,” you say, quietly.  
Now more than ever, you want this tournament to be the most exciting one could ever participate in.

It's a week away from the end of the registration period, and you finally have a lead.  
Kazumi Onimaru.  
You know him, of course. You weren't nearly as involved with last year's U20 as you are with this one, busy as you'd been trying to sort out the Main Branch, but you'd been there for the finals. A brilliant player, with the kind of assurance of those who've never doubted their station in life. You hadn't really felt anything strange at the time, but now several of the people you've interviewed have mentioned his name.  
And more importantly, those among them who have the highest standing as players have mentioned being asked about the tournament. Their team, whether they'd be participating.  
All of them young. All of them promising. And right as you'd thought the Europe trail had gone cold, you're informed that his teammate has died.  
You look into it more. He's changed, some people say. He's always been a bit superior, but there's something different about him recently. Almost as if he was a different person.  
_It's just paranoia_ , you tell yourself. _People change; you're only seeing things because—_  
You don't want to finish that thought. You don't want to wake _that_ memory.  
You still feel sick enough that you want to cancel the entire tournament.  
But you can't. People have already registered. And you've put _so much effort_ into it. You can't ruin that now. You can't ruin everything for—  
_We'll see him at the tournament itself._  
You have to protect the tournament. Whatever Onimaru is up to, if he's tried to lure people there, he'll be right under your nose. You can have him under careful watch, force him to show his hand. And if all goes well—if all goes well, you can fix the situation with no one the wiser. And the excitement you poured your heart into will still reach those who participate.  
You can do it. You can handle the situation. It'll be okay. You can still protect what's most precious to you.  
It's the least you can do.  
You pick up your phone, and look for Katsuragi's number.


End file.
